Vividly
by Jamaica
Summary: Short ficlets collection based on various tumblr prompts. Encompasses romance, friendship, strangers on rooftops, companions on the road, and all that in between. Kanda/Lavi.


**A/N:** This is a short ficlet collection based on various tumblr prompts. Each fic will have their own warning, but overall it's pretty tame.

 **Warning:** Some course language, alcohol use, and mild violence.

* * *

 **Vividly**

* * *

 _Princely_

(Prompt: modern au, rain, car/driving; pink)

* * *

Sunrise. Enveloping the boulevard in a wash of pink. In the distance the ominous clouds were swiftly dissipating on the heels of the short-lived rain. Kanda smoothed back a strand of loose hair. The usual ponytail was gone, his long dark hair flowing every which way. The shiner he got on his cheek was beginning to sting.

He was a fool to go after Alma like that. He freely admitted it, but Kanda Yu did not get to where he did if not for his obstinate foolishness. It got him into law school. It got him _out_ of law school before the mistake became astronomically costly. It got him that new job at that top security firm, and that swank apartment on the upper west side, and that date with that beautiful blonde curator who worked at the art gallery a few blocks down from his place.

It got him Alma.

* * *

It also lost him Alma.

He had wandered into the bar after their break up, aiming to drown himself in alcohol. If that came with a solid drunken brawl so be it. On hindsight he really should've gone somewhere else, where their tumultuous history was not the regular after-hours entertainment. But he didn't, and when Alma showed up with the modish brunette attached to her arm, radiant and in love, he lost it.

Bars didn't like it when a tough-looking man started screaming at two frail-looking girls. Especially not when said man had gone way past his alcohol limit. The bouncers made quick work, but everyone knew him and their hashed-out history. So the punches were pulled and no cops were called. A blessing.

He passed out in the alley out back until he was woken up by drops of rain. He started for home, yet his feet continued on, carrying him past his car and northward. The downpour sobered his overheated head and washed off the stink of vomit. Somewhere along the way he lost his torn shirt and frayed hair tie. He probably should be calling a cab, or at least turn back, but the only direction he wanted to go was away.

* * *

The sun was now peeking through the horizon and he was miles away from the bustle of uptown. The air smelled of damp flowers and cheap gasoline. Early morning traffic was picking up, so Kanda didn't notice the sound of a car coming from behind until it pulled up right next to him, dogging his steps.

The vehicle was a loud, vintage clunker with chipped salmon paint and duct tape over one of the back windows. The engine sounded like it was on the verge of stalling every few feet. Kanda wondered briefly how it could still be street legal before the passenger side window rolled down, and the driver leaned over to speak.

"Hey!" the man said. "You need a ride?"

Kanda saw the snake tattoo first, coiling up from the knuckles and wrist and disappearing into the rolled-up sleeves. Then came the overly cheery expression and red hair covering half the face, a color of what the car might originally sported before the paint faded under fifty years of harsh California sunshine. Kanda turned away. If he ignored the idiot long enough he'd leave. They always did.

"Rough night, huh?" the man continued, oblivious. "Where're you going? Not home, I hope. Nothing that way except the desert." A pause. "Do you need somewhere to stay?"

"Fuck off," Kanda said.

"I'm not an axe murderer if that's what you're worried about. I know how that sounds, because if I were one that's exactly what I'd be saying. But come on, look at this junk. You really think I can outrun the police in this? I don't remember the last time I hit the speed limit without fearing for my life."

Kanda stopped. Guess this time they needed a stronger hint. He turned, fully prepared to give the creep a piece of his mind, but the redhead disappeared from his view. The car stopped, driver's door swinging open, revealing a tall, slender man with an odd eyepatch. Kanda raised an eyebrow. _Driving that cop magnet with one eye?_ Must be a much bigger fool than he thought.

"There's an okay diner about a mile back. You up for some breakfast? I could use a cup of coffee myself; been up most of the night." The redhead stretched, shirt riding up, revealing more of the tattoo wrapped around his waistline. "Come on. I'll give you a ride."

Kanda licked his dry, cracked lips. He was suddenly aware of his growling stomach and the acidic taste lingering behind his tongue. The pink from the east had now spread across the sky, onto the dented hood of the car idling next to him. _Fuck it_ , he thought. If his foolishness was going to get him killed, then today was as good as any.

* * *

When he slammed the car door as he got in the windows rattled like loose screws. The engine wheezed to life as the redhead changed gears. It had been a long time since Kanda had ridden in a stickshift, and the jerking start made his empty stomach roil unpleasantly. It must've shown on his face, for his ride gave him a glance and pointedly left the windows down.

It suddenly occurred to him another reason someone might want to pick him up, dressed like he was. "I'm not a prostitute," he bit out, half expecting to get immediately tossed out onto the asphalt.

"I didn't think you were one," The redhead laughed. "What, that's why you thought I picked you up? I mean, I'm not even picking you up, technically. I offered you a ride, because you look like you're about to pass out. And I've seen you around, so, I know you're not completely psycho or something."

"You've seen me around?"

"Yeah. Jerry's. You always came in with that hot blonde chick. I worked in the kitchen for a while. Used to sneak bites of potatoes and stuff when I was behind on rent. And those lamb chops – to die for, yeah?"

Kanda blinked. What in the holy hell. "You know, you really should've started with that line, instead of pretending to be a fucking creep."

"Well," the redhead's smile was crooked. "I didn't think you'd get in my car if I mentioned Jerry's. I mean you're walking on the streets, alone, on a Sunday morning. Plus, you might think I intentionally followed you or something. I'll take my chances as a serial killer."

"Did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Follow me."

"No. The last ten minutes notwithstanding. But, yeah, no."

Kanda leaned back. Exhaustion was catching up to him, culminating into a tired silence only broken by the rumble of the engine. He stared at the dark eyepatch, the cross earrings, the bright red hair. At the relaxed way the redhead was pulling into the diner like they were friends after a night of mutual debauchery. At the stranger, who, at this moment, felt more real to him than his love – ex-love – had ever been.

"Rough night, huh?" the stranger said again, warmly.

Kanda didn't reply, only turned to look out the window, at the rising sun chasing the scattering of pink clouds, a thousand miles away.


End file.
